Sincere Disappointment try, try again
by isthatacorner
Summary: James has something that he really wants to say to Lily. Unfortunately his stupid mouth keeps messing it up for him. Can he over come his nerves to say what he really wants to? A one-shot. Hope you enjoy!


disclaimer: Well, unless JK has taken a liking to writing Twilight and SWAC ff (and really, how awesome would it be if she has?) well...even then, I still wouldn't be her. So. No, I'm not JK any and all characters and settings and what have you that are recognizable belong to that lovely lady and no copyright whatevers are intended. There, does that cover all the bases?

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summary: Remus has given James the advice of being sincere when he talks to Lily. James freezes and really...do things ever go as planned for our dear boy in his dealings with Lily?

Sincere

"_Be. Sincere."_ James Potter carefully did _not_ muss his hair, instead shoving his shaking hands into his pockets and muttered "…sincere, sincere, sincere…" under his breath with his every footfall. Soon he was standing in Lily Evans line of vision. He gulped a deep greedy swallow of air and attempted to raise his eyes to her. "…sincere, sincere, sincere…" Her socks weren't even. The back of the left one was tucked under her foot like she had been scratching the back of her calf with her right shoe. Her legs were crossed, right on top of the left and she was incessantly worrying the hem of her skirt; bunching the material in her right hand before loosening the grip of her fist, straightening the material with the same hand and starting the process all over again. "…sincere, sincere, sincere…" He thought that he may have even been able to see a peek of thigh if the table hadn't been blocking his view. His gaze hopped and skipped up the table landing on the parchment paper in front of her. She had been doodling something…a quidditch scene maybe from the way the sketch was chasing itself around on her page. He attempted to swallow again, choked on the air he was trying to shove down his throat instead, and when the passage finally cleared his hand ripped itself from his pocket and flew to his head. He only _just_ managed to not ruffle his hair, a cardinal sin when dealing with Lily Evans, and instead wound up smacking himself—hard—on the back of the neck. His eyes jumped to hers before skittering back down her front to land on her parchment paper again. And just like that he froze. One hand in his pocket, the other in a death grip on the back of his neck and his eyes leveling out somewhere in front of her chest where her body came in contact with the high table in the Gryffindor common room. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—even if it wasn't whatever that thing is that Remus had told him to say or be, but his mouth was so dry that he didn't think that he could even remember what it felt like to drink anything. If he could remember how to think at all, that was. And before he knew what was happening, a stream of cold water was being shot at him from the tip of Lily's wand and she was hissing "perv" at him before scribbling over whatever it was she had been doodling and he managed to croak out a, "Go out with me, Evans?" before shuffling back to his friends to get a blast of hot air from Remus.

Disappointment

Lily Evans scrubbed over her doodle with her quill. Hard. She honestly didn't know what she was expecting. But every year, she always held out the same hope. That he would just be sincere when he spoke to her. That he wouldn't come over like a sex-crazed perverted addict and _talk_ to her. And laugh with her and maybe smile at her the way he did sometimes when he didn't think that she would notice. Because that smile, that smile that seemed to start at his toes managed to make its way to _her_ and all the way down to _her_ toes and _caressing_ every single caress-able spot on the in between. She wanted to know what one of those smiles felt like head on. But how could she talk to him when all he did was leer at her? He never changed; which, in a way was comforting because it meant the way he felt about her hadn't changed. But it meant that she still couldn't talk to him. And Merlin help her she wanted to. Sometime after she called him a bullying toe-rag and a million times after she had told him to just "bloody well grow up!" he had. He had grown and changed and matured in every way except for when it came to her. When it came to her, all she was good for was as an object. Something to stare at. Boobs and hair and that was all. She blinked at what was left of her doodle: her and James on the back of his broomstick skimming too low over the trees of the Forbidden Forest and she, for once wasn't afraid of heights because, she was assuming anyway, because she was holding James Potter close to her. She scribbled viciously over the remaining traces of the sketch until the Nimbus 100 (she had even managed to inscribe the broom's insignia and all of the players from last years team (they had etched their names in each other broomsticks after winning the Quidditch cup last year) onto the handle. Attention to detail! As Professor McGonagall was always saying.) was a barely discernible blob that hardly hovered over the bottom edge of her page. She managed a small smile to her friends who were sitting around her at the table, their attentions on their various endeavors. They probably hadn't noticed her latest altercation with Potter, they were so frequent that no one really did anymore. Them not noticing was for the best. Then she wouldn't have to put a name to this weighty, unhappy feeling that was gathering low in the pit of her stomach. But, then, she risked a glance over at his table. He had one hand propped up on the table holding his head up and was gazing at her. A slow smile was making its way up his face and soon he was _beaming_ at her. Beaming that smile at her that she felt everywhere on her body that warmed her inside out to the point that she had to release her long red hair from its pony tail so that no one would notice the red tint to her ears. The man could scorch her alive from across the room with a smile. It was that smile that she set her mind and hands to sketching as she turned away from him, hoping that he hadn't noticed her looking at him. She allowed herself the tiniest of reactions in the upturning of her lips as she tucked her head down and allowed her hair to pool in front of her face. Disappointment. That's what she was feeling. Not a vague sense of unhappiness. Disappointment that he couldn't just smile at her like that…that she couldn't be more than a "Go out with me, Evans?" and so very disappointed that she so very much wanted to be. What sort of girl fell for a guy like him anyway? A guy who's only redeeming factor was the way he smiled at her when she wasn't looking?

Try, Try Again

James ran his hands through his hair once, twice, a third and then a fourth time. He was trying to get rid of all of the nervous energy that was coursing through him. He was listening to Remus and Sirius as they tried _again_ to come up with a plan for him to talk to Lily. Peter, looking for an as yet unfound easy way to his problem, was searching for a spell to make him _sincere_ in his dealings with the girl. Because as all the marauders, hell as everyone in the castle excepting Lily Evans knew, James sincerely liked the girl. It was just a matter of telling her. And keeping his hormones in check. He would go over to say something to her, something drilled and rehearsed and practiced because it took _that_ much effort to get him to say "Go out with me, Evans?" instead of "fancy marrying me and moving into the small cottage that I inherited from my Grandpa Potter it's a little musty but I'm sure we can make it into a nice enough home for the two of us and all the little Potters to come". Because when he thought of Lily Evans, unlike with every other girlfriend that he had, he didn't think of just sleeping with her. He thought of sleeping with her and being thrilled if she told him some weeks later that there had been consequences to their romp and presenting her with the ring that his father had given to his mother that _his_ father had given to his grandmother and so on through who knows how many generations of Potter men. The ring was even emerald for Merlin's sake dating back to a time well before diamonds became in vogue for engagement rings. But the problem was he had no idea of how to even get to the point of "I love you's" and babies and engagement rings or marriages and then babies and "I love you's" every day for the rest of their lives because he couldn't even talk to the girl. It wasn't just because she was gorgeous that he was so intimidated by her, if that was even the right word for it. But she was, gorgeous. All long red hair and long legs and _confident. _Unlike most of the other girls in the school who were in a constant flux trying to get some guy or another's attention or approval or something doing weird things to their hair and stuffing their bras or flaunting well filled out cups under the noses and eyes of unsuspecting men Lily didn't resort to any of that. She hadn't had to to get his attention. She was one of the tallest girls in their year, but unlike Sandra a girl from Ravenclaw—_Ravenclaw!_—Lily didn't slouch around trying to make herself look shorter to guys who hadn't hit their growth spurt yet. And she was smart, one of the top in not just their year but the whole school, no doubts about that, and she didn't try to hide it. There was no hair twirling, well she did twirl her hair but not in a "look at me, I'm a ditz" sort of way. She was just _her_ and she was awesome and he just plain didn't know how to handle it. He roughly shuffled both hands through his hair and launched to his feet. His un-voiced thought was if he moved fast, he could get the words out before his stupid mouth screwed it up. So, he strode towards her, anxious to not let his eyes get fixated on the area in front of her again (her bosom had _grown_ over the summer. Not that they had needed to but they had and how sexy was that?) he instead focused on the right side of her forehead. She had a freckle up there, just a small one and one of two on her face. The other was on the inside corner of her lips, almost inside her mouth. He had spent considerable time considering the mouth of Lily Evans. She was getting a pimple there, by the freckle on her forehead and he quickly shifted his gaze around looking for a safe place to land. His gaze was caught by hers and just like before he found himself standing in front of her, dumbfounded. Eye's locked on one another he took a deep breath and finally breathed out, "I missed you, Lily." She blinked several times at him, and the reality of seeing _her _gobsmacked for once by him caused a wide grin to spread over his face.

Sincere

Lily didn't know why she had ever wanted the full force of that smile unleashed on her. She could barely keep her countenance when she just spied it from the corner of her eye, but now with him staring into her eyes smiling _at _her? Well, it was suddenly like there were too many people in the room and they were sucking up all of the air and Lily just couldn't breathe. Her face was flooded with the blood that had rushed to her face and she felt an incredible urge to shimmy around in her seat when a certain liquid something effect of that smile made itself known and swamped the area in her belly just below her navel. She pressed her hand there and stared up at him. Handsome. So handsome and smiling at her just how she had always wanted. She nibbled on the corner of her lip and continued staring up at him. So long, she stared, that the smile seemed to dip and slowly slide from his face and he shuffled his feet as if to back away from her and now _his _face was flushing. Although probably nowhere near as painfully bright as her own blush had been. Still was. She leaped from her seat and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, preventing him from leaving, blushing all the while. Her mouth opened and closed several times, much like that fish that she had always accused him of resembling every time he tried to speak to her and his vocal chords seemed to have quit. Her fingers eased their grip on his wrist, neither of them smiled now. Their faces were both equally serious and shy and apprehensive as her fingers tickled over his palm and slid in between his fingers capturing his hand in a loose embrace. His gulp was audible as he looked back up and into her face, his gaze once again mingling with hers. He had spoken to her and he was sincere and he seemed nervous and not cocky and ridiculous the way he always seemed to be when interacting with her. She was determined not to blow this opportunity. The one thing she had always wanted from him. With a huff of air, she forced her teeth to let go of her lower lip, and borrowed _his _favorite move: she mussed her hair in nerves. Finally, she smiled at him, returning the smile he had given to her, hopefully with similar result. "I missed you this summer to, James." Courage spent, she blushed and looked back at their loosely grasped hands.

Around them their fellow school mates continued what they had been doing: Lily's friends were reading and writing letters to loved ones. First years were grouped in a corner discussing the things that they had seen so far on this the ending of their first full day of school. The Marauders were huddled in a corner bickering over how best to aid James in approaching Lily and not looking like an idiot and in the middle of it all, a relationship was beginning.

A/N: Sup, y'all? I haven't written anything in the Potter-verse in a good long while. SO, I do hope that y'all enjoyed this little tidbit. And if you didn't feel free to to say why. I've been flamed once before and I can take it! Well...not really. But I can pretend and how would you really know? Anyway, on to the import: I want to give credit where credit is due and that is to **MOLLY RAESLY** the author of _SWEET_. I was reading her delightful L/J fic and at the end of chapter 5 "The Heads' Compartment" James whispers to Lily's retreating back that he misses her. And my imagination wouldn't leave me alone until the plot bunnies had their say and this was born.


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